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Sunday, 11 October 2009

Call me Norm

Back from rainy Scotchland. My place card at the wedding made me wonder just how many members of my family read this weblog:

Hello, family members!

(I have covered my surname with a Gogo to preserve some shred of anonymity, because, like, I am so protective of my private life, hem hem)

This also means I cannot tell you about my hideous wedding faux pas. If you really really want to know and can prove you aren't related to me, email with your family tree and I'll tell you.

Observations:

1. It's odd to see them en masse, that side of the family. It's like seeing small pieces of my mother spread around various bodies; small dark women were everywhere, giving me agonising double takes. Sitting behind the mother of the bride at the ceremony, her hair and neck and ears looked so like her I almost wanted to reach out and give her a stroke, but then Fingers got himself entwined in a length of purple taffeta and one of my hold ups fell down, and the moment passed, thankfully.

2. Also, going to a beautiful, moving wedding full of hope and optimism when Things are as they are, four days before I take possession of the new house, was not the most sensible thing I could have done, either emotionally or administratively. I don't regret it though. Perhaps the maddeningly obtuse guy at Burger King in Glasgow Central Station does.

3. My children are totally, irretrievably French. I have never seen two children dance quite so seriously. They do whole body French dancing. I was torn between grudging respect and mortification.

4. I wore this dress and hoped noone would notice the magic eye motif. Is this remotely plausible? If the answer is no, lie to me. Remember, Scottish wedding, well stocked bar, many many glitteringly feathered outfits. Man, they dress up. I wish someone had warned me. Not that anything in the Shroud Collection could possibly have looked right, but I could at least have dipped myself in glitter, or worn a bit better make up. As it was, the Magic Eye dress was grubby and crumpled from a trip on Michael O'Leary's magical mystery tour, as was I, and the spawn were similarly coated in a mixture of sugar and ketchup. We looked like the gypsy entertainment but without the, uh, entertainment.

5. I need your help with this one. My sister, the Space Cadette, tried to convince me that people in Britain are now all keeping chickens in their back gardens as an accepted mainstream activity. She's wrong, isn't she? It's because she lives with trustafarian freegan hippies, right?

6. This is utterly disjointed because we had to get up at half past five. We were staying somewhere so primitive it did not appear to have telephones. The wake up call was a whey faced fourteen year old knocking on our door. On top of that, I was sharing a bed with Lashes, who turns into a giant heated elbow at night. I do hope to become more coherent soon, but I will spend most of the week tackling my vomitous phobia of the bank and the telephone so posting may be of the fuckfuckfuckpanicfuck variety.

I am appalled to learn that my sister has not been smoking the carpet and chickens are in fact 'in'. Hmph. Indigo, I wouldn't dream of mocking, I'm just chastened to have missed out on a whole cultural phenomenon.

Grit - Email only.

Monk - Yes, we bloody will have a housewarming party. Bring your friends, hem hem you know wot I mean.

I really *want* to keep chickens. Hens only, please. There is a thing called an Eglu that makes it all seem strangely plausible. However, we have no garden at all, so no chickens for now. Indoor chickens would definitely be a step too far.

Redfox - I am going to get shouty here, but YOU ARE HAVING A BABY. Please, in the name of baby nathan, do not get chickens too. One of my cousins kept a bantam cock in a bungalow. It was not a success.

I have no family tree except a sister, who is childless, and my own children. Sadly, you are not one of them. My parents were both only children. However, save the faux pas story until I meet you, we're slightly drunk and you can genuinely laugh about it.1. A couple of years ago on the train, I saw a woman who looked exactly like my mother. Not her face, but her back view, her profile, and the type of clothes she wore. After the first start, it made me feel quite comforted.2. An end does not mean a failure. Hope is always to be celebrated.3. Hm. Bless.4. I like it. Actually, I rather want it if you've gone off it a bit. I know you're slimmer than I am, but if it's a size 10, I'm your woman. If you're a size 8, I can get there in another 6 months. If you're smaller - look, I had 34" hips when I was your age. I can't do it again.5. Chickens are a bit last year, the latest thing is beekeeping. We have both bantams and beehives, of course.6. Oh blimey, I remember those elbows. Actually, they were my husband's. At 4 o'clock this morning.

Yes, chickens and Eglus are the latest thing, I did contemplate but was told under no circumstances was I to bring livestock into the house. We have enough trouble with the two dogs. Also, rehoming battery hens is very now, but you have to knit chicken jumpers to keep them warm. There's a waiting list for the battery hens. Family things like weddings scare me half to death which is probably why I got married in a pair of leather trousers with two friends for witnesses and their two kids, one was dressed rather sweetly as a fairy. It didn't bode well really, did it?

The French whole body dance? Are we talking Tecktonik? Oh Emma, I am feeling so sorry for you. Although that must have been hilarious for all the other wedding guest. You can still send them over to boarding school though. And yes, they will learn how to raise their own chicken, I am afraid.

I think even Shocked of Ixelles would allow you a 'damn' Z. Yes. It gapes rather, but I haven't bought anything that isn't black since then and 'no black' is apparently the only bit of wedding etiquette I know.

Wait - did I miss something?? It is now perfectly acceptable to wear black to weddings, isn't it? HELP ME!

I once kept rabbits in an apartment. some say they can be trained to a litter box but I disagree. Visitors would say you have gravel in your carpet, and I'd say no, we don't. Even though dwarf bunnies don't produce anything useful, they are so incredibly cute when you bring home a bunny the size of the palm of your hand that you'd almost forgive them for ruining your life, but not quite.

I really hate going to weddings, I think. Even if you know and love the bride *and* groom, chances are at the reception you'll be stuck at a table with people you've never met before and never wish to meet again.

I wore black to the last wedding I went to, and it was an Aussie summer day wedding, and I was not the only one. Black is very chic, I think.

Started to tear up thinking of you and your pieces of mothers. I'm in awe of you, Waffle. You seem to be very strong in the face of the apocalypse and assorted difficulties. You're sort of my hero right now.

Ok, now you're all messing with my head. Chickens everywhere AND black is ok at weddings? I am going back to bed.

Ginger - I sort of feel the same about the dog actually, but it lives so much longer. YESIAMABADPERSON.

RedShoes - bleugh. Totally misplaced, I am a total mess. But thank you and much love xxx

(say no to chickens. Think Werner Herzog:“Well they are very frightening for me because their stupidity is so flat. You look into the eyes of a chicken and you lose yourself in a completely flat, frightening stupidity. They are like a great metaphor for me… I kind of love chicken, but they frighten me more than any other animal.”)

Number 5 seems to be true around these parts. Because I know how to have a good time, I've been delivering the local telephone directory for the equivalent of something like 9p per directory, which I'm reliably informed meets the minimum wage - of Azerbaijan perhaps - and was amazed at how many people have dug up vast tranches of their gardens to grow Brussel sprouts and how many urban chickens there now are. Yikes!

As one of said extended family I'll protect your anonymity happily pet.

I'm the pretty one in the kilt (your youngest looks exactly like me at his age by the way) and who was sat next to the space caddette before having to make an early exit. Sorry about that - really not well you see.

One of the small dark women put me onto this by the way in case you're wondering who grassed you up.

Lovely to see you by the way - heard from the bearded one about your trip to the science centre as well.

Weddings? Don't even go there! Chickens? Yes chickens are very 'in' in the UK at the moment. I can think of at least six of my friends who have chickens and four more who have hives. Bees are also 'in'. At almost £2 for half a dozen free range eggs, even in the dreaded Tesco's, how could owning chickens not be popular?